Pick Your Poison
by Nautho
Summary: Mia Grindelwald doesn't belong in Slytherin and she certainly doesn't belong with Sirius Black. She's still trying to convince herself of the second fact. Half-veela and descendant of one of the most powerful dark wizards, Mia isn't quite sure how she's going to survive her last two years at Hogwarts.
1. 12 Grimmauld Place

**Chapter 1: 12 Grimmauld Place**

Walburga Black was surprisingly beautiful and unsurprisingly harsh. At least, that was my first impression once I had steadied myself after stumbling from the fireplace at 12 Grimmauld Place. Floo powder had always made me nauseous and I was having trouble stomaching the idea of spending any amount of time with the Black family. Walburga was sitting on the couch when I arrived and she gave me a shrewd once-over before pointing a lazy finger at my bags.

"Kreacher, take our guest's bags to the spare room." Her voice was shrill and grating.

"Hello." I said blandly. I held her gaze, but it wasn't easy. Her cruel eyes were full of mistrust. I guess I couldn't blame her. I was half-Veela which was a strike against any pureblood family. Add to that my father's disloyalty to the dark arts and my recent expulsion from Durmstrang Institute. I honestly had no idea why she had been so set on taking me in, which was a fraction of the reason why I trusted her so little. Pure blood descended from Dark Magic didn't dabble in goodwill and I the Blacks had no real connection to the Grindelwalds, so it couldn't be attributed to family ties. I guess my buddy Gellert Grindelwald was probably ultimately responsible. After all, his whole muggle enslavement gig must really excite people like Walburga.

After a few moments of exchanging hostile glares, Walburga spoke.

"I don't want any problems from you. You'll be starting at Hogwarts next week and given your track record, you should feel quite comfortable surrounding by mudbloods and blood traitors. I've been telling your father for years that you'd turn into a blood traitor yourself. We know how unpredictable Veela blood can be. But I won't have it here. You know where this family's loyalties lie and it would be wise to adjust your own." She paused and drummed her fingers on the couch, daring me to offer up any sort of opposition. I didn't take the bait. I nodded and she smirked.

"Dinner is in fifteen minutes. Kreacher, show Ms. Grindelwald to her room."

The room was inhospitable, as expected. The bed was hard and cobwebs climbed the walls and ceiling. I didn't see the Black family having many guests and I wasn't exactly welcome myself, but there was something soothing about the sparse, undisturbed feel of the room. There were two portraits in the room: an old sleeping woman with a wrinkled neck and an equally elderly man with sharp, greedy eyes. He fixed his gaze on me and grinned. I glared at him for a moment and turned to unpack my things. I got as far as opening my trunk before deciding it wasn't really worth the effort. I wasn't too interested in seeing what was in the drawers of the dark wooden armoire and I'd only be spending a week here. One week. Of course, then I had Hogwarts to suffer through. Even then, I only had to survive two years there and I was free. I was becoming slightly hopeful about Hogwarts, which I knew was a mistake. But after suffering through five years at Durmstrang, two more years at a school with a much kinder reputation didn't seem all that bad. Still, I had to be cautious. Being half-Veela didn't make it easy to slip under the radar and my last name certainly didn't help. That was another problem. Dumbledore had, after all, defeated my grandfather in a legendary battle, so there was that.

There was a light knock on my door, which was already mostly open. The door eased itself open and a boy with black hair stood in the doorframe, looking slightly uncomfortable. He was about my height (5'8) with dark grey, almost black eyes and a pale complexion. Like his mother, he had strong features, but they suited him better. His grey eyes shifted to me and he blushed briefly.

"I'm Regulus." he stammered. "Dinner's ready."

"Mia" I said and followed him, as he had already turned and was walking down the hallway.

Dinners at my house had never been a very cheerful affair. On the rare occasions my father did join me for dinner, conversation usually consisted of a few stiff exchanges. I guess my resemblance to my mother was too strong, because he could hardly bear to look at me. Anyways, dinner with the Black family actually managed to be more uncomfortable than dinner with my father. Orion, Walburga's husband, said nothing when Walburga offered a brief introduction at the table. I would say he seemed resigned, but he was too proud to be compared to an average harassed husband. He gave me a few odd, hungry looks, which I struggled to ignore. Sirius, Regulus's older brother, on the other hand, gave me one hard look and spent the rest of the meal with his eyes fixed on opposite wall. He was handsome, like his brother, and there was an underlying wildness he shared with his mother. He was sporting a bruise across the cheek and that, combined with the dark circles under his eyes, gave him a hunted look. Regulus, clearly feeling more comfortable, stared at me like I was a foreign species.

Walburga was the only one to speak during the meal and she took advantage of any silences with a lengthy, rambling sermon proclaiming her distaste for "filfthy mudbloods". Sirius's jaw seemed to become progressively tighter as Walburga's rant devolved into cruel threats against muggles. I was having a difficult time myself and I was hoping he would crack before I did. Thankfully, Walburga paused for a moment and Sirius chimed in.

"Mother, I don't think you've made your opinion of muggles quite clear. Could I hear that last bit one more time." Walburga fixed her dark gaze on Sirius and I heard a muffled, manic giggle. It took me a moment to realize I had made the sound and everyone's eyes were already fixed on me.

"I.. I choked on a bit of meat." I said as calmly as I could manage, only to realize meat wasn't even on the menu. Sirius disguised a chuckle with a cough and Walburga's eyes darted between us.

"Leave the table, before you both make me sick." she hissed. We complied in unison and I trailed behind Sirius as he ascended the staircase. His room was two doors past mine, but he didn't turn to face me when I slipped into the guest room.

I spent fifteen minutes leafing through the thick packet of information from Hogwarts that had been propped on the desk and then collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling and imagining what kind of fresh Hell Hogwarts would prove to be. My thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on the door and before I could answer, Sirius had slipped in with a swift motion. He jerked the window open and slumped in the seat beside it, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

"Want one?" he asked and I shook my head. I had pulled myself up and was sitting on the bed now, my legs crossed. Sirius scratched his jaw and lit the cigarette. He smoked out the window for a few minutes and then turned to face me, his hand dangling out the window.

"Welcome to Hell." he said, with a tight smile that didn't really reach his eyes.

"I didn't realize it'd be so frigid in Hell, I would have brought a jumper" I countered and he let out a hoarse chuckle.

"Yeah, good ol' Walburga likes to keep the house at the same temperature as her cold, dead heart." I would have laughed, but his voice had a tight, serious edge to it. We were quiet for a few more minutes.

"So, why'd you get kicked out of Durmstrang?" he asked.

"I set Karkaroff on fire." I replied shortly and I saw a glimpse of excitement flash across his face."Wicked" he smiled and I stared. His smile was warm and goofy and it transformed his features from severe to a boyish handsome. It was quickly replaced by a thoughtful, curious scrutiny of me and I looked away, embarrassed. I didn't get embarrassed, not often, but I also didn't find myself being looked at that way—a kind of soft re-calculation. He must have realized he was staring, because he squashed the butt of his cigarette rather suddenly against the sill and stood.

"See you, I guess." he said and made his way to the door. He hesitated for just a moment and was gone.


	2. Truth or Dare

**Chapter 2: Truth or Dare**

Every day spent at 12 Grimmauld Place felt like an eternity; Or at least a much longer period of time than twenty-four hours. I was on day two and already I felt unbearably trapped. The tricky thing was that the Black residence was sandwiched between two houses in a well-off Muggle neighborhood, so I couldn't really venture out (not that Walburga would allow it anyways.) The house felt both immense and claustrophobic. I woke up early after a restless night of sleep and when I opened the door Kreacher was standing in front of me, his arm raised to knock on the door.

"Breakfast" he hissed at me and I followed him to the dining room. Mr. Black and Regulus were seated stiffly, eating. Walburga and Sirius were missing, but after I nudged at entirely unappetizing eggs benedict for a few minutes, I could hear her shrill voice in another room. A door slammed and I heard a shrill screech followed by a resounding thump. A few minutes later, Walburga entered the room, straightened her robes, and took a seat. Sirius followed behind, a tissue pressed to his nose. He looked absolutely murderous.

By the end of the meal, Sirius's nose seemed to have stopped bleeding. He had a reckless glint in his eyes and he uttered the first words of the meal when he exclaimed brightly

"May I be excused? I'd like to head to the library to get a start some of my summer reading." Walburga looked suspicious, but nodded tersely.

"Actually, could I see the library too? I haven't had a chance to look over the reading list and…" I asked, my sentence devolving into a mumble. Walburga hardly looked engaged in the conversation anymore and gave me a bored nod. I slipped from my seat and followed Sirius as he padded out of the room.

Once we were on the second floor, he turned to me.

"I'm not really going to the library, but I can show you where it is and you can look over my school books. They might be a bit dusty." His voice was low and tight, full of barely controlled anger. I was pretty certain it was directed towards Walburga, but it was still frightening. When we got to his room he hesitated "Just wait out here, ok?" he said. A few moments later he returned to the hall, his arms filled with books. He showed me to the library, which was large and windowless, with a few armchairs and lamps.

"Just about as cheerful as the rest of the house." he muttered, depositing the books on a table and turning on the lamp closest to the door "But here it is." "Thanks" I mumbled and he gave me a nod before ducking out of the room.

I spent the better part of the afternoon in the library. The Black's book collection wasn't exactly impressive and what titles they did have seemed to suit Walburga's tastes. Two years at Durmstrang had given me my fill of dark magic and I ran a bored finger along the dusty spines. Sirius's course books proved to be far more interesting and I spent a few hours leafing through _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ By mid-afternoon I was tired of reading and I turned my attentions to the marble chess set on the table. I had arranged the pieces and was scrutinizing the King when I heard a knock on the doorframe. I looked up to find Sirius slouched in the doorway.

"Planning on playing a game of chess with yourself?"

"I was planning on it, unless you think you'd put up more of a fight?" He half-smiled and sunk into the seat across from me.

We played without much conversation. We were pretty evenly matched and by the time we reached the third game we had each won once. He narrowly won the tie breaker and I growled in frustration. It wasn't that I was incredibly invested in wizard's chess, but I didn't like to lose either.

"Competitive are we?" Sirius said smugly. I rolled my eyes

"No one likes to lose. Another game?"

"This game is going to become terrifically boring soon. Besides, I'd like to quit while I'm ahead."

"How very wise of you." I said sourly.

He chuckled and ran his knuckles over his bottom lip. My stomach twisted a bit. I wasn't boy crazy, but it was difficult to deny that Sirius Black was pretty damn good looking. Plus, I had spent the last month trapped in our secluded summer house and I found myself craving human company.

"How about a round of Truth or Dare?" he said in a voice that made me swallow hard. _Pull yourself together, Mia_! I chastised myself.

"Bit old for that aren't we?" I asked and he smiled.

"Never to old for fun."

"Ok, fine. Truth or dare?"

His smile widened. "Dare."

Things were getting a little out of hand. And by a little, I mean a lot. We'd started out small, but our competitive streaks had led to quickly escalating dares. Neither of us was really willing to venture into the Truth category, but that didn't bother me. I'd always had a reckless streak and I'd dangle from the chandelier over talking about something personal to an acquaintance any day.

Dangling from the chandelier in the Black's foyer had been my favorite dare thus far. I had spent three minutes hanging upside down from the ornate decoration before it groaned in protest and Sirius convinced me to come down. I've always loved flying and quidditch has made me agile and unafraid of heights. I was still giddy from the adrenaline rush when Sirius turned to me in the hall.

"Do you drink?" he said with a wicked grin.

"Only when I'm thirsty." I laughed and he rolled his eyes.

"C'mon." he tugged my sleeve and led me to his room.

Sirius's room was a little smaller than mine. His bed was unmade and trash littered the floor. I saw a few muggle magazines draped across his desk and posters hung crookedly across the wall beside his bed. He dropped to his knees and felt around under the bed before producing a half empty bottle of firewhisky. He winked and tossed it to me.

"Do you sit alone in your room and drink often?" I asked.

"Why yes, it's one of my favorite pastimes." He said and I couldn't quite tell whether or not he was joking. I took a swig so I wouldn't have to decide whether or not to laugh.

Four shots later and the firewhisky was definitely kicking in. I was warm all over and I stripped my sweater off. I was only wearing my bra and a thin camisole underneath and I noticed fall to my chest for a brief moment. He swallowed hard and took another swig from the bottle (this was his seventh.) After a moment he turned to me, his eyes bright.

"Ask me."

"Hmm?"

"Your turn to ask."

"Oh, right. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

I studied him very carefully for a moment. I had thought we were in silent agreement that we were mostly playing a game of Dare or Dare. He was offering me something less surface than our reckless dares earlier and I wasn't sure I liked it. I chewed my lip.

"What's your favorite subject?"

He let out a barking laugh. "Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"What's your favorite drink?" he asked, rubbing his jaw with one hand.

"Gillywater. Or Red Currant Rum. Yours?"

He eyed the firewhisky bottle, which had a little less than a swig left, and pointed to the label before finishing it off. He ran a finger along the rim of the bottle and studied me with an unreadable expression. I knew he was going to ask me something less trivial and I didn't want to answer. I didn't want to talk about Durmstrang or my future or my father. The list of things I was willing to talk about with Sirius Black was pretty narrow at this point. Before he could ask another question or even speak I flicked him lightly on the nose. Graceful, I know. But my brain processes were slowed by the alcohol and I couldn't really gracefully extract myself from his line of questioning.

Sirius shook his head, sneezed, and then gave me an indignant flick on the forehead. I swatted at him, but I was still a little unsteady and I fell forward, knocking him over and leaving us with tangled limbs. I tried to pull myself back to the seated position, but gave up when he showed no signs of helping and rolled onto my back beside him instead. He turned so he was lying on his side and leaned his forehead against my head.

"Kiss me." he whispered against my hair.

I laughed and turned so our foreheads were touching. I could feel his soft breath fanning across my face. He smelled like cinnamon and firewhisky.

"Is that a dare?"

He shut his eyes and nodded, so that his breath was on my neck. A shiver ran down my spine and I reached for him, cupping his head in my hands. I ran my thumb across his lower lip and he opened his mouth. I brought his face to mine and kissed him. His hands were in my hair then and he deepened the kiss. I wasn't complaining and the small rational part of my mind that was still functioning didn't prevent me from re-adjusting myself so I was sitting on his lap. His hands snaked around my waist to steady me as I tilted my head upwards to accommodate his lips, which had moved to my throat. I bit my lip and cursed the sober part of myself that insisted I disengage myself from Sirius, who let out a disappointed groan and reached for my waist. We were both still rather unstable and I toppled over beside him in a fit of giggles.

"Ok, game over. We're drunk." I laughed as he pulled me to the seated position.

"_You're_ drunk." Sirius corrected me. And it was true— he seemed mostly sober. If I was being honest with myself, I wasn't that drunk myself. Sirius cleared his throat.

"I… I wouldn't have taken advantage. I hope you know that."

I laughed and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"We're good."

Just then, we heard a terrific crash followed by one of Walburga's signature shrieks.

Sirius winced. "Shit. That would be the chandelier."

I sighed and sat on the bed, which creaked in protest. Sirius had tried to take the blame for the chandelier stint, but it hadn't worked and now I had an angry red mark across my left cheek from where Walburga had slapped me. Her outburst had been a bit shocking, but I felt lucky to have gotten by with so little. Still, my cheek stung and I was anxious about the days to come. It would have been wise to try to stay on her good side as much as possible and I had promised myself I would be wise and careful. It would be wise to stay away from Sirius Black.

I heard three short taps on the door and sighed. I stood and opened the door and returned to sit cross-legged on the bed. Sirius slipped in and shut the door. Maybe I wasn't wise after all. I was hoping he wouldn't notice my cheek but when I looked up his eyes fell to the mark. Something like disgust crossed his face for a moment and he leaned in to assess the damage. His lip twitched and he lifted a hesitant hand to touch the bruise across my cheek. We were both very still for a moment, but the sound of footfalls could be heard from the other room and it seemed to startle us both back to reality. Sirius plopped himself on the bed beside me.

"I'd give it a 3. You got off easy." he said with a bitter smile.

"Excuse me?" I asked, my voice a little shrill.

"See, on the Black Scale that's pretty low caliber. Now this" he said, pointing to his own cheek "Is more of a four." I had to agree, the bruise along his jaw was certainly more serious than mine. It was fading to a yellowish green, but it looked like a fist had made it and not an open palm.

"And this" he continued, turning his wrist to face me so I could see a series of ugly looking burn marks "is more of a 5, even though it doesn't look it." He still had a dark humor in his voice, but something made me reach forward to run my fingers across my forearm. He looked startled. Our eyes met and he swallowed hard, but didn't protest. I traced the pattern of the marks, which had scabbed and then reached to brush my fingers along the bruise on his jaw. He closed his eyes and let out an unsteady breath. I didn't realize, but I'd been holding my breath as well. I suddenly felt self-conscious and my hand fell to my lap. He opened his eyes and I was surprised by the intensity of his gaze.

"Do you want to see an 8?" he asked breathlessly. I couldn't bring myself to answer; I just nodded.

Sirius turned on the bed so his back was to me and then, before I could protest, pulled his shirt off. His back was a mess. It was patterned with bruises in varying stages of healing. Worse than that, there was a landscape of large, crescent moon scars. I couldn't tell if they had been inflicted by spell or blunt force, but I winced and reached for them, feeling the unnatural pattern of raised skin and the hard muscle underneath it. He was all lean muscle and my hands reached for the unscarred skin as well. He trembled under my touch and I felt the overwhelming urge to say something of consequence. There was nothing to be said. I leaned my cheek against his shoulder blade and we sat like that for a long while. Finally, he sighed and reached for his shirt.

"I need a cigarette" he said, his voice hoarse. I nodded mutely, even though he couldn't see me.

The cigarette seemed to draw some of the sadness from his face and he tried for a half-smile.

"So you see, what you have isn't too serious."

"Siriusly?" I asked. He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Siriusly."


End file.
